I just got back my third rejection letter for my novel. I'm not discouraged. There is no pouting happening on this face. I will not slit my wrists and hang from a saggy tit. I will not wallow in drear while horses stomp all over my knees. I will not forsake my pen or the words I use (sometimes too often). Nope. Receiving a rejection letter for a novel I completed is cause for celebration. Bring on the tutus cause I'm still dancing.